But Not Really
by WithDropsofJupiterInHerHair
Summary: Back at the X-Factor house Harry wakes up in the middle of the night and on his trip back from the restroom he hears crying. After much debate with his conscience he gives in and walks to the stairs, finding the boy from the bathroom consumed in tears. Although the boy won't tell him just what's wrong Harry proceeds to do his best to comfort him through the night. Larry Stylinson.


**So, I don't think I'm mistaken in saying that this is the longest one-shot that I've ever written. I don't know- I've felt iffy about this (and still do, quite honestly) but I've had several people praise it up and down so I figured that I might as well post it. I really do hope that you like it and pretty, pretty please review. Xoxo**

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Harry sighed, eyes blinking slowly as he lifted his head to face his reflection in the smudgy mirror. His hair was a mess- frizzy curls matted haphazardly and eyes squinted, not quite adjusted to the light- but that is what happens when you wake up half an hour past midnight, especially with these long days of Bootcamp. He dragged his bent fingers up and down either side of his face, trying to scrub just enough sleep away so that he'd be able to make it back to the bedroom.

With a sigh, he flipped the switch, letting the bathroom fade to black before stumbling back into the hallway. In the shadows, he could barely make out the walls and rooms, but by now he had walked these paths enough times to be able to find his way back blindfolded.

He was just a few steps away from a return to sleep- the unblended window let it just enough light that he could faintly make out the white doorframe glowing in the moonbeam. That was when he heard the sobs.

He stopped in his tracks, eyes searching the empty halls for unfamiliar shadows. None of the lights in the house were on and he had been sure that he had been the only one up so late. Proving him wrong, they continued- the shaky breathing, the intermittent sniffles. He shuffled his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, torn between the sound sleep that awaited him on the other side of the wood and his conscience that told him to find the source of the sounds and make everything better. He didn't know how long he stayed that way, absentmindedly shifting his weight.

Finally, he decided that going to bed was the better idea- he couldn't even he sure that anyone was even _crying_… it could have simply been someone kept awake a bad cold. His fingers had just brushed the cool brass of the handle when a whimper broke out, echoing in the empty hall and sealing his fate for the night.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he took a deep breath before turning around. The light wash of moonlight was still streaming in through a hall window, just barely highlighting the outlines of anything in the hall. The floorboards creaked slightly as he took a step forward, blindly walking in an attempt to find the source of the sounds. The whimpering stopped immediately, followed by a few soft sniffles which seemed to be loudest by the stairwell.

Turning the corner as quietly as possible, Harry found a figure hunched over with a jumper and beanie pulled tight around him, successfully hiding what hadn't been concealed by the dark. Harry bit his lip, not quite knowing what to say, let alone what he was doing. Closing his eyes tightly, he once again thought through the whole situation. As he reopened his eyes, he found the now-silent figure staring up the staircase at him.

He wasn't sure if it had grown brighter, or if his eyes had finally readjusted to the light, but he could just barely make out the glimmer of two eyes, followed by the curve of a nose and a soft whisp of bangs- just enough to recognize the bubbly boy from the bathroom.

"You alright?" His voice came out hoarse with sleep, and he almost hoped that it was too low for the boy to hear him… it was a stupid question to ask, after all. Of course he wasn't alright. If he was then he wouldn't be crying on the stairwell at one o'clock in the morning.

The boy said nothing, but kept watching him- the shimmer in his eyes shuddering slightly, proving just how full of tears they were. Harry tore his gaze away, facing the floor as his foot brushed along the edge of the top step, daring him to come closer.

"What's wrong?" He spoke a little louder this time and stepped forward, grateful that he had- for once- listened to the requests of his housemates and thrown on a pair of pajama bottoms before leaving his room.

The boy shook his head and closed his eyes, for a moment just sitting there- the back of his head resting against the wall and his knees bent in front of him along the step. Harry hesitantly took the same position opposite him, a few steps up.

Draping his hands across his knees, Harry began playing with the thin layer of flannel. He wasn't sure what to say, especially if the boy wasn't going to talk to him. He bit his lip nervously, glancing up to find the boy staring at him again.

This close, Harry could see the water in his eyes and the smudged, glistening tracks across his face- a face that he'd only ever seen smirking or laughing or singing… it was unsettling.

"Sorry if I woke you," the boy whispered, wiping his sleeve across his cheek, his soft voice loud in the still silence, "I didn't think I was being too loud…" There was another sniffle, followed by a single, forceful laugh, "Then again, I'm always too loud."

Harry bit his lip, not knowing what to say because _yes, _the boy _was _loud. Not that he minded. There was another long silence, and Harry looked up to find the self-depreciating smile had already disappeared from the boy's face. An emptiness appeared in its place as he stared at the wall, absentmindedly running two fingers through his fringe.

"It's weird not seeing you smile." Harry didn't really think as he said this, it just fell out of his mouth, earning him a confused glance and a slight smile. He held the gaze, simply staring into the sad blue orbs, trying to decipher the emotions in them.

"It fine if you don't want to talk about it." Harry sighed, letting his eyes flicker down to where his hands were once again tugging at the fabric of his pants. After a moment he looked up, finding the boy still watching him curiously. "As long as you stop crying."

The slightly happy look faded a moment, into an offended glare, before slipping back into a more comfortable expression.

"It's nothing, honestly…" Louis replied, looking him over for another second before deciding he meant no harm, "Just people being asses, really."

He sniffled and smiled at this, it felt good to be calling _them _rude names for once… the housemates who always referred to him as _the gay kid_, or _the flaming faggot_.

"Well- one of us is going to win this thing." Harry muttered, placing a comforting hand on the knee nearest him, watching as the blue eyes drifted from his own to stare at the place where his skin brushed the loose cotton fabric of the Aeropostale sweatpants. "Just remember this when you're in the finals and they're asking for favors."

Louis was at a loss for words, which was really saying something if you knew him, as he all but gaped at the curly-haired boy in front of him. How was it that while everyone in the house seemed to have nothing but bad words for him, this boy he'd only ever talked to once could sit here and be so wonderful? He ducked his head, feeling a gentle heat settle into his cheeks as a smile slipped onto his face.

"Thanks, Curly." He muttered, suddenly feeling quite shy, as he swung his leg to bump his bent knee against the nearest leg of the other boy. "You've got a real chance, too, you know." He wasn't just saying it to be nice, even when they'd sung together in the halls, he could pick out the curly-haired boy's voice from among the rest- deep and graveled- and the way he felt the music… you could see it all over from the strain of his face to the way his body moved in rhythm with the music.

"Not if I don't start getting a decent night's sleep, I don't …" he muttered, more to himself than to the other lad. Nevertheless, Louis caught the words, biting his lip guiltily.

"I'm fine, honestly." He whispered assuredly, patting the curly-haired boy's hand dismissively from where it still rested against his knee. Suddenly realizing that his hand was still there, Harry made a move to draw it back just as Louis turned himself so that he was leaning along the same wall as the other lad, looking him straight in the eye. Wiping his face once more for good measure, Louis beamed up at the boy, "All better, see? Now go get some rest."

That was all Harry had thought he would need, really- to have his conscience dismissed for the evening so that he could return to his warm bed. With a content sigh, he slowly stood up, turning to find the older boy still leaning up against the wall.

"Aren't you coming?" The only rooms downstairs were the kitchen, dining room and living areas- so if the boy were going to his own bedroom, the only way would be up the staircase. Harry watched curiously as the faintest look of panic flickered across the previously calm face.

Louis didn't want to go back up there, to the room full of men who would make comments when they thought he couldn't hear. He'd silently sat through enough jokes about being careful who you change in front of or how the bra they'd found in the bedroom must've fallen out of the gay kid's bag. The last thing he wanted was to walk right back into their cruel world.

"I'll be up in a minute." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his curls. He didn't understand this- he had been dismissed, the boy would be go to bed in a few minutes, and _honestly- _why did he care anyway? But as he turned to leave, he couldn't take more than two steps. Turning around he found just what he had expected: the boy sat there, shaking as he drew in a silent breath, head bowed and eyes watering. Harry could just make out the sparkle of a teardrop tangled in one of his lashes.

Pinching his lips together, he sighed and sat himself back down on one of the steps, staring sideways at the lad as he faced down the stairwell. He noticed one of the lights were on downstairs, someone had probably wandered into the kitchen. Harry just held his head in his hands for a minute before speaking to the boy, without even looking up.

"You aren't planning on going up there any time soon, are you?" It wasn't really a question, it was more of a statement… an observation.

He tilted his head up slightly, waiting for some sort of response, only to find the boy looking at him slightly guiltily, eyes once again dampened with tears.

"Why?" Harry whispered, only half-expecting an answer.

Once again, Louis looked him over, waging a war within himself for a moment before deciding that the baby-faced boy was nothing short of harmless, "_Them_."

Harry didn't need any more explanation… he was talking about the '_assholes_' again. They were right here in that very room. He ignored the unsettling feeling growing in his stomach, slightly sickened by the thought that his own roommates could be the ones saying things to make him cry, choosing to instead busy himself with the emotions swirling in those blue eyes.

He sighed heavily as he lifted himself from the step and stretched his hand out to the boy.

"Come on," he muttered blinking away the sleep that was once again creeping up on him.

Louis looked up at him incredulously, and slightly offended. Hadn't he just told him why he didn't want to go to his bed, and he was going to try to take him there, anyway?

Harry rolled his eyes lightly at the glare, shaking his hand for emphasis, "Come on, I've got an extra pillow. You can bunk with me tonight."

Louis bit his lip and looked him over… _was he serious? _To be honest, Louis _was _exhausted- not only from the day but from the crying too. But what if he was in on it? What if word had spread through the house and this was just some kind of joke, a set-up? Why else would a cute stranger be so nice to him… why would he invite him back to his bed-

"_Come on_," the boy whined, tilting his head back and closing his eyes while shaking his body for emphasis like Louis' little sisters did when they threw temper-tantrums, "I'm tired and I just want to go to sleep."

Louis sighed, ignoring all the parts of his mind that told him to keep up his defenses in favor of all the body parts that told him he was exhausted. Besides, someone with such bright, honest eyes couldn't mean harm.

Carefully placed his hand in the one surprisingly soft one before him, Louis watched as the boy flinched at the sudden touch, opening his eyes and letting a crooked smile escape simultaneously as he helped Louis to his feet.

"_Thank you_," he muttered, his voice returning to its gravely, sleepy state.

At once, Louis found himself being dragged up the steps and through the hall, not quite understanding how a grip could be so strong yet so damn _gentle _at the same time… well, that and how this kid's hands could possibly be _that_ much bigger than his… where had he managed to hide those things?

He bit his lip as they stopped in their tracks, finding himself nearly slamming into the boy as he carefully turned the handle, slowly pushing open the door to his room so that it made as little noise as possible. As the boy let go of his hand, he looked down at the floorboards once again lost himself to his thoughts.

Was this really the best idea? His roommates already call him gay, then he goes and spends the night in some random boy's bed… a boy he doesn't even know the name of for Christ's sake!

Looking up, he found the curly haired boy staring at him pointedly.

"_What?_" Louis snapped, raising an eyebrow at the attitude that was apparent in the boy's features.

"_I said_, 'Will that work for you?'" His voice didn't sound too angry, just impatient.

Lou followed his pointed glance to find a bed lined against the wall- the comforter ripped off and folded to create a wall between the two halves of the bed, each side with its own pillow.

"It's lovely, _really_," Louis smiled, making a point to be as polite as possible, "But honestly, if you just give me a pillow, I'll be fine on the floor."

The boy sighed and rolled his eyes, "You're notsleeping on the floor. Just pick a side."

"No, honestly, here-" he grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, only to have it ripped from his grip, "It's fine- I do it all the time at home when my sisters-"

"You're not sleeping on the floor."

"Come on, you're being ridiculous." he sighed, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at the unamused stare, "It's not going to kill me to sleep on the floor for one night-"

"And _how_ would it kill you to sleep in the bed for one night?" The curly-haired boy whisper-shouted.

"What would that _look like?_" Louis let out, exasperated, "I mean, I don't even know your name!"

"Harry. Now you do." he sighed, tossing the pillow back on the bed before turning to face Lou, "Now would you please pick a side."

He huffed, giving up and climbing over to the half nearest the wall, stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest and lying stiffly on his back. He let out an sharp, unhappy breath as the bed creaked beside him. Stealing a sideways glance, he found the boy, curls spread out around his head like a halo, a satisfied smile gracing his lips just before where his face disappeared under the sheets. Body turned slightly towards the wall, the clear green eyes watched him intently.

"Relax." he whispered, looking him over, "It's like a sleepover."

"But not really."

"It would be if you got under the covers like a normal person." he mumbled, blinking slowly. His tired eyes lighting up a bit at the sight of the boy finally caving and crawling under the covers.

Lou shifted onto his side to face the wall rather than the boy on the other side of him.

"Louis."

"_What?_" Harry hummed, blinking his eyes open to stare at the bump in the covers just over the wall.

"My name's Louis." Harry could hear the comfortable tone sneaking back into his voice, "Just so you know."

"_Goodnight, Louis." _He murmured, letting his eyes close once again.

"Night, Harry." He whispered, defeatedly, snuggling closer into his pillow.

He sighed, taking in the soft scent of the fabric and letting his eyes fall shut. Just as his thoughts were drifting away to nothing, he suddenly remembered he had forgotten something. Hastily flipping over in bed, he rearranged himself to face the wall, his knee knocking against another leg beneath the sheets.

Peering over the fold of covers, he found the curly-haired boy, eyes shut and a peaceful smile on his face, breathing slowly.

"Thank you, Harry." he whispered, resting his head on the wall, eyes tracing the flattened brown tresses until he succumbed to sleep, all thoughts outside their sleepover already forgotten.


End file.
